Michelangelo Buonarroti

(1475-1564 / Italy)

Xxiv. _The Doom Of Beauty._ - Poem by Michelangelo Buonarroti

Spirto ben nato.

Choice soul, in whom, as in a glass, we see,
Mirrored in thy pure form and delicate,
What beauties heaven and nature can create,
The paragon of all their works to be!
Fair soul, in whom love, pity, piety,
Have found a home, as from thy outward state
We clearly read, and are so rare and great
That they adorn none other like to thee!
Love takes me captive; beauty binds my soul;
Pity and mercy with their gentle eyes
Wake in my heart a hope that cannot cheat.
What law, what destiny, what fell control,
What cruelty, or late or soon, denies
That death should spare perfection so complete?

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Comments about Xxiv. _The Doom Of Beauty._ by Michelangelo Buonarroti

  • Fabrizio Frosini (1/2/2016 12:14:00 PM)


    Ans also in a Spanish translation:

    Espíritu bien nacido, en el que se refleja y ve
    En tus bellos miembros honestos y queridos
    Cuanta naturaleza y cielo entre nosotros puede dar,
    Cuando a ningún otro su bella obra cede;
    Espíritu liviano, en el que se espera y cree
    Dentro, como de fuera en el rostro aparece,
    Amor, piedad, merced, cosas tan raras
    Que nunca dio beldad con tanta fé;
    El amor me captura, y la beldad me ata;
    La piedad, la merced con dulces miradas
    Firme esperaza al corazón parece que nos da.
    Qué uso o qué gobierno al mundo niega,
    Qué crueldad por tiempo, o cual más tarde,
    Como si un bello rostro la muerte no perdona?
    (Report) Reply

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  • Fabrizio Frosini (1/2/2016 12:12:00 PM)


    Also set in English by John Addington Symonds (1840 - 1893) , title unknown, from '' The Sonnets of Michael Angelo Buonarroti (for the first time translated into rhymed English) '':


    Choice soul, in which, as in a glass we see,
    In thy pure form and delicate,
    What beauties heaven and nature can create,
    The paragon of all their works to be!
    Fair soul, in whom love, pity, piety,
    Have found a home as from thy outward state
    We clearly read, and are so rare and great
    That they adorn none other like to thee!
    And love for thee holds my captivity;
    Beauty binds my soul to thine own
    Thy gentle eyes of mercy wake my hope
    What law, what destiny, what cruelty denies
    That death should spare perfection so complete?
    Choice soul in thee as in a glass we see
    Beauty bind my soul to thine own.
    (Report) Reply

  • Fabrizio Frosini (1/2/2016 12:09:00 PM)


    Michelangelo Buonarroti - Rime
    41. Spirto ben nato, in cu' si specchia e vede


    Spirto ben nato, in cu’ si specchia e vede
    nelle tuo belle membra oneste e care
    quante natura e ’l ciel tra no’ può fare,
    quand’a null’altra suo bell’opra cede:
    spirto leggiadro, in cui si spera e crede5
    dentro, come di fuor nel viso appare,
    amor, pietà, mercé, cose sì rare,
    che ma’ furn’in beltà con tanta fede:
    l’amor mi prende e la beltà mi lega;
    la pietà, la mercé con dolci sguardi10
    ferma speranz’ al cor par che ne doni.
    Qual uso o qual governo al mondo niega,
    qual crudeltà per tempo o qual più tardi,
    c’a sì bell’opra morte non perdoni?
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, August 31, 2010



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